"On the 21st day of the month of September, in an early year of a decade not too long before our own, the human race suddenly encountered a deadly threat to its very existence. And this terrifying enemy surfaced, as such enemies often do, in the seemingly most innocent and unlikely of places...."-Little Shop of Horrors
Her head didn't burn like the heart did, but it felt a surge of dead air before a loud siren-like screaming noise erupted from the bed, and an "OH GOOD GOD, WHY!"
before collapsing back onto it, facing St. Rita's lovely portrait and grinning. It was okay, the cat was gone, having leapt out to prowl the town. She blinked, then glared at them, before one of the doctors spoke up. Several blinks, an open mouth, then closure again.
Soon, another. "Where's the cat? Is the cat okay? Tell me you didn't hurt him...please...please, for the love of God...just like you tore me away from Roy, you--you...both of you, you..."
Next went her tongue--and that burnt badly. Imagine yourself screaming bloody murder as someone meticulously ripped out your tongue, whispering over and over again that it was painful, that it was for the best, though, that you had no need to fear, as it would soon happen to everyone else and your significant other--that it was ritualistic of a sort to do, even.
"YOU SLIMY BASTARDS!!!"
RIP! RIP! RIP! Like a piece of stubborn notebook paper, my old tongue was rent from my mouth and was now lying on my bed, hemorrhaging and squirming about like it was a dead fish.
"Ah, good...now the final request. And seeing as mute children communicate, too...as sad as I am to say this, restrain her!"
That I wouldn't take lying flat, so sign I did with as much resistance as I could muster before somebody took me down.
"Hail Mary, full of grace, hallowed be thy name, thy kingdom come, thy will be done, on Earth as it is in heaven. Give us this day, our daily bread, and forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive those who trespass against us, and lead us not unto temptation, but deliver us from evil...amen."